


my breath and my heart (got taken by you)

by blackandwhiteandrose



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, David Rose Deserves Nice Things, Early Relationship, Fluff and Romance, Introspective David Rose, M/M, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, oh the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackandwhiteandrose/pseuds/blackandwhiteandrose
Summary: David shifts his weight from foot to foot, squirming like an impatient child. Something about the way Patrick is looking at him has him pinned in place, unable to break away from the intensity of his gaze.He doesn’t even know how to interpret what he’s seeing, because he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like that before.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 40
Kudos: 147





	my breath and my heart (got taken by you)

David shifts his weight from foot to foot, squirming like an impatient child. Something about the way Patrick is looking at him has him pinned in place, unable to break away from the intensity of his gaze.

He doesn’t even know how to interpret what he’s seeing, because he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like that before.

He’s been on the receiving end of hateful glares and lustful glances, devious smirks and disappointed frowns, but this is … _fuck_. It’s a lot. All warm, soft eyes that seem to shine with something that anyone who wasn’t David might call _adoration_ and a smile that’s both brilliant and a little bit teasing at the same time.

Whatever it is, it’s making him anxious - the way it feels like he’s going to burn from the inside out, reduced to a pile of ashes in front of this endlessly charming man. It’s not the first time Patrick has felt like a threat to his self-preservation, it’s not even the first time _today_. There is an ever-growing list of instances where Patrick has set his sight on David and visually undone him in a way that will set him off-kilter for hours afterward. 

And he just keeps _doing_ it.

David sometimes wonders how Patrick is so damn productive, when it seems like every time he tries to sneak a peek in his direction, Patrick is already looking back at him. And always with that same mysterious expression. He figures there are only so many emotions a person can associate with him: shock, frustration, annoyance, mild amusement, general disdain. But this is none of those.

He thinks he’d probably be blushing, if that was a thing he did. His cheeks do kind of feel warm. Is that a thing he does now? Despite his best efforts, the corner of his mouth tips upward and a smile starts to flash across his face before he quickly tucks it to the side, unwilling to give this moment sort of hope that he will only regret later.

He watches Patrick light up at the barely-there, almost-returned grin and his breath catches.

He wonders sometimes, if there’s something hiding in that expression on Patrick’s face and what it might mean. He knows he has absolutely nothing to base this on, historically speaking, and figures it’s just wishful thinking. He has spent a lifetime hunting for clues that aren’t there and reading too much into everything. He’s tired of being let down and crushed when all the signs he was sure he’d seen turn out to be delusions - mirages in the desert-like expanse of his loveless life. 

But Patrick is different. He had been from the minute they met, from the first words they spoke to each other. Since then, the sound of Patrick’s voice has become the soundtrack to David’s existence. Everything about Patrick became all-encompassing in a frightfully short period of time. Or was it? That was another thing David had nothing to compare against, no means to measure by. He knew they’d been falling toward each other since the beginning and his birthday had been the fuel to the spark that became a fire that raged hotter and brighter every day, hell, every second that he spent with Patrick.

David lets out a shaky breath as Patrick steps toward him, their arms automatically slipping around each other at shoulders and waists out of habit, out of instinct, where they belong. His eyes search Patrick’s face, looking for clues or evidence of what he might be holding back. But all he can find is the same steady, open gaze that he always sees. 

It occurs to him that Patrick, unlike everyone else he’s ever known, might not actually have anything to hide. The notion is both exhilarating and terrifying that he could possibly know someone that well. That someone could know _him_ that well. That they would _want_ to. He and Patrick spend the majority of their waking hours together, whether at work or just … _together_. Because that’s how they prefer to be. He’s so used to being close to Patrick now; he’s become acclimated to willingly sharing space with someone. With Patrick. Who looks at him like he can see right through him and somehow still wants to come back for more.

Patrick, who is slowly leaning in to kiss him with the slightest graze of teeth against lip. He sighs contentedly against David’s mouth, drawing his arms tighter around David’s torso as he brushes his tongue over David’s.

He moans as Patrick presses closer to him, their bodies aligning perfectly, as they always do, like they were meant for each other, built as interlocking parts that belonged together. He thinks he may never feel more content or more sure of himself and Patrick than he does in these moments of pure lust and longing, as if they were each something for the other to consume. He hopes he always feels this way - eager and willing for Patrick to take what he needs. The thought makes his heart stutter over the concept of _always_ and being so willing to be taken apart for someone else. 

Patrick pulls away to breathe, his hands tucking into David’s back pockets as he leans into David, foreheads touching. “ _David_.”

A shiver runs up David’s spine, the tingles racing through his veins. No one has ever said his name the way Patrick does, making those two syllables into a whole soliloquy of affection and desire. Patrick uses “David” like it’s his favorite word - as a term of endearment in casual conversations, a cry of pleasure in bed, an admonishment in their office when David has chosen aesthetics over good practice - all distinctive by the tone he imbues. No matter where they are or how he says it, there’s never any doubt that what he’s saying is important: David matters to him. 

Looking into Patrick’s caramel-colored eyes he’s taken aback at how clear everything suddenly becomes. Like he’s peering into a crystal ball, he can see it all: long weekend escapes to bed-and-breakfasts, combined family holidays, wedding rings and promises… a future with him. A future for _them_. 

He’s dreamed about the pomp and circumstance of a ceremony before, with a faceless bride or groom - imagined the flowers and the food, the party. But he’s never, ever imagined what came after, never once considered a whole _life_. 

Even though the watery haze of the tears abruptly clouding his eyes, he could swear he’s gazing into a mirror - everything he’s thinking and feeling is being reflected back to him. Overwhelmed, he reaches up, hands on either side of Patrick’s face, and kisses him, deeply and desperately. He lets himself get lost in the fantasy of it, and for just a moment indulges the hopeless romantic that he keeps buried and locked up in the darkest parts of his heart. He knows better now, knows that distance and aloofness are the only ways he can make it out alive, but it’s so fucking hard to remember that when he’s with Patrick. 

Every past infatuation seems so meaningless when he looks back and he’s not going there, not going that way anymore. He wants to move forward, wants to believe all the things he hopes he sees in Patrick and that infuriatingly indecipherable expression are real and true. He breaks the kiss, breathless, sure that the next thing he feels will be soul-crushing doubt and disappointment. 

He opens his eyes and finds Patrick, staring back at him, fond and steady, like he’s got everything he wants. His heart doesn’t know what to do, other than skip a beat and then speed up, pounding out a frantic rhythm that sounds a lot like _Patrick Patrick Patrick_.

* * * * *

He’s doing it again.

Patrick is gazing at him with his warm, soft eyes and his mouth set in an upside-down smile that David is sure only Patrick could make look so endearing. 

David tries his best to ignore it and keeps talking, unwavering in his conviction. He notices Patrick’s eyebrow raise in surprise. _Oh._

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Patrick asks.

He falters for a moment, realizing just how badly his words have betrayed him. “I said… the breath mints need to move.”

“I think it was something about your _boyfriend’s_ shoes?” The slightest hint of amusement creeps into Patrick’s tone, like he’s been waiting forever and is glad David finally caught up to where he is.

David stumbles over his response and watches Stevie leave, incredulous at how quickly things have unravelled. Or... did it all just come together? If he’d known Patrick would respond so well, he may have accidentally mentioned that … _weeks_ ago. David’s lingering fear of being _too much_ and _too soon_ would have never guessed Patrick would seem so pleased.

Patrick’s smile reaches his eyes, his whole face aglow with affection. He tugs at his shoelaces. “My boyfriend doesn’t like the shoes, so I’m gonna take the shoes off…”

“Okay, before you do that, um…” David pauses, gently perches himself across Patrick’s lap. “I just wanna let you know that sock feet in a public place is also _incorrect_.” He wants to sound like he means it, like the very idea of being shoeless in their workplace is an abomination, but he can’t stop smiling at his _boyfriend_.

“We do what we have to do…” Patrick tells him, in a valiant attempt at faux seriousness.

What David _has_ to do is kiss him. 

They lean in simultaneously, seeking each other out as they always seem to. David’s still smiling when their lips meet, a gentle press that quickly becomes something more, the kind of kiss that not just lovers share, but… boyfriends. Two people who just declared this is _real._ This is _us_.

Patrick’s hands slide over David’s back, pulling him as close as their position will allow, and David can feel it - the way everything just shifted, falling into place. He breaks the kiss in a gasp - for air, and for the breathless feeling of realizing that for the first time, he has a legitimate shot at the happy ending he’s only ever dreamed about. His fingers skid along the back of Patrick’s neck, wrapping around and bringing him back in for another kiss, slow and deep and so achingly tender, a kiss that promises _more_ \- more kisses, more time, more of all of the things he wants.

David nips at Patrick’s bottom lip as moves to take a breath, their eyes catching each other’s again. He sees it just as easily as he had before - the potential for everything he and Patrick could be, might be already. The future looks like date nights and laughter and one day, some fucking privacy, and maybe even a little compromise.

Now that he knows what _together_ should look like, should feel like… that’s something he’s not willing to compromise on anymore.

He’s almost certain he won’t have to.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (title from Amy Shark "Love Songs Ain't For Us')
> 
> TrueIllusion continues to be awesome and I am grateful. Spiffymittens continues to be thought-provoking and I love it.
> 
> Delilah McMuffin and schittyfic can get out of my head now, thanks. ; )


End file.
